R.E.M. 4: Lifes Rich Pageant

Having employed a more subtle approach on their previous album, the band went into the other direction for their fourth album in four years. Lifes Rich Pageant was produced by Don Gehman, who got most of his notoriety for his best-selling work with The Artist Then Known As John Cougar Mellencamp. Despite the assumptions of that sound, the result was a logical progression in the band’s career.

The big sound is apparent from the start, thanks to another great riff on the chugging “Begin The Begin”. Even Stipe’s vocals are more upfront, more assured, if no more explicable. “These Days” continues the assault with an anthem made for arenas. They mix their greatest acoustic and electric strengths for “Fall On Me”, the perfect first single. The three different vocal parts complement each other perfectly. “Cuyahoga” is another song addressing environmental concerns—not exactly in vogue in 1986—though it’s not exactly clear what the hell “Hyena” is about, outside of the opening sound effect and the title yelled as a chorus. Just to show they weren’t all serious, the side ends with the wacky “Underneath The Bunker”, a quasi-Greek surf instrumental with bullhorn vocals at the end.

Side two is a little more subdued, at first anyway. “The Flowers Of Guatemala” might be political, or it might not, but it definitely sounds like The Velvet Underground. “I Believe” starts with a jaunty banjo before exploding into another great arena-rocker. “What If We Give It Away?” is more midtempo before they turn it up to thrash speed for “Just A Touch”. “Swan Swan H” gives them a chance to reflect on the folkier sound of the last album, giving budding acoustic players more fodder for their campus hootenannies. And what sounds like a toy wound up too fast provides the lead-in for “Superman”, borrowed from an obscure ‘60s B-side and made into their own.

Lifes Rich Pageant truly brought R.E.M. a little closer to nationwide favor, but it still didn’t set the world on fire. That wouldn’t happen until their next album, leading many longtime fans to insist that this one was their last good album, fulfilling the prophecy of The First Four.

As with the Fables reissue, the album was given the grandiose 25th anniversary repackage in a little box with a poster, postcards, new liner notes and a bonus disc of “Athens Demos”. Every song that ended up on the album save “Superman” was tried out ahead of time, and it’s clear how prepared the band, if not Stipe, was before heading into the studio proper. Mike Mills already has many of his harmonies in place, and Peter Buck only gets lost once per instrumental take. Along with early stabs at “King Of Birds” and “Bad Day”, they even run through some older original songs that display both their garage band roots and their strengths as an actual band.

R.E.M. Lifes Rich Pageant (1986)—4½
2011 25th Anniversary Edition: same as 1986, plus 19 extra tracks

Ben Folds 3: Naked Baby Photos

The band’s original label decided to cash in as best they could on the sudden if moderate success of Whatever And Ever Amen with what amounted to a rarities collection. Granted, there were various live tracks and B-sides already stockpiled, but the timing was about as questionable as the dance remix albums earlier in the decade from Paula Abdul and Milli Vanilli. Chances are, though, the band would have loved to be in such company. (Ben even went so far as to write up some notes for the package.)

Naked Baby Photos is split between studio and live material, and both angles run from the sublime to the ridiculous. Three outtakes from the first album—the poignant “Eddie Walker”, the jaunty “Tom And Mary” and the acoustic guitar-driven “Emaline”, which is what kept it in the can—sit alongside the homemade single version of “Jackson Cannery” that got them signed. Then there’s “For Those Of Ya’ll Who Wear Fanny Packs”, a six-minute jam that skewers funk and hip-hop, and is only slightly funny the first time through.

The live half offers straight covers from the debut, plus a version of the ever-evolving “Song For The Dumped” and a lovely cover of “Twin Falls” by Built To Spill. But there are also two near-metal pastiches that were, again, probably more fun at the time for the people involved.

That said, Naked Baby Photos served as a decent stopgap while the band prepared their next real album. And their increasingly rabid fan base was happy to buy anything they put out. Anyone else would be advised to stay away. (Footnote: Recorded around the same time was a band performance on the PBS series Sessions At West 54th, which was subsequently released in full on DVD, and finally appearing twenty years later as a standalone CD. The first two albums are liberally sampled, along with “Theme From ‘Dr. Pyser’” and the Flaming Lips’ “She Don’t Use Jelly”.)

Ben Folds Five Naked Baby Photos (1998)—3
Ben Folds Five The Complete Sessions At West 54th (2018)—3½

John Cale 5: Fear

A switch to Island Records put him John Cale touch with some like-minded individuals who, like and with him, recorded a series of albums that predicted both punk and New Wave, both in sound and subject matter. Fear is consistent with his earlier song-based albums, while also being a departure. (Brian Eno is credited as contributing “Eno”; he and Cale also worked on Nico’s album that year.)

Dramatic piano chords open “Fear Is A Man’s Best Friend” before a more stately figure with guitar accompaniment carries the song proper. Things wind up in the choruses, and Cale ends the song nearly screaming as the arrangement falls apart. This makes “Buffalo Ballet” even prettier, despite the sad lyrics about the transformation of the Old West (admittedly, the auteur says, from a Welsh point of view). “Barracuda” is a little more rock ‘n roll, with dark poetry and a demented viola solo, all while reminding us that “the ocean will have us all.” This in turn makes the near seaside lullaby of “Emily” that much more perverse. Continuing the nautical theme, “Ship Of Fools” nicely varies between major figures and major-seventh figures for another nice-sounding track that’s fairly inscrutable.

“Gun” brings back the nasty rock, with a stark narrative, a tasty riff and an extended guitar solo from Phil Manzanera that more than fits the mood for over eight minutes. Softer, and not how you think, is “The Man Who Couldn’t Afford To Orgy”, which American listeners will be confused to hear rhymed with “porky”. Eno pal Judy Nylon coos throughout and amazingly, this was a single. We would have gone with the more straightforward but just as tuneful “You Know More Than I Know”. Besides, his delivery of “what crap” is wonderful. “Momamma Scuba” manages to combine the menace of “Gun” with the nautical imagery of side one over a band featuring Richard Thompson.

Thanks to the players, Fear has an edge over Paris 1919, and therefore sounds more natural. It was almost like he was getting used to being a frontman.

John Cale Fear (1974)—3

Lou Reed 5: Sally Can’t Dance

Throughout Lou’s solo career, his most divisive albums upon release continue to do so decades on. His fourth studio album came about in the wake of the glam favorites Transformer and Rock ‘N Roll Animal, and such was his momentum and the fixability of the Billboard charts that Sally Can’t Dance remains his only top ten album.

Of course, just because something’s a hit doesn’t mean it’s good. Take the most commercial aspects of Berlin, and mix them with lyrics designed to provoke more than inspire, and that’s Sally Can’t Dance. There’s even less of a story here, despite the recurrence of one woman’s name. “Ride Sally Ride” continues somewhat musically from the last album, with its piano and horn opening, diminished chords and attempt at melody, but the chorus has nothing to do with Wilson Pickett. “Animal Language” begins with barking and uses both “bow-wow” and “meow” in its choruses. (We are not kidding.) Like a twisted nursery rhyme, a dog and cat meet unfortunate demises, and attempt to get high in the afterworld. A little more palatable is “Baby Face”, a five-minute slow jam for electric piano and jazz guitar, but instead of “Lady Day”, he’s saying “no no no” to this title character. If you want more cowbell, “NY Stars” should hold you over, percolating with a clavinet.

The one song that does stand out is “Kill Your Sons”, and not just because it’s the least sterile. Possibly the most honest song here, it’s an indictment of the shock treatment he underwent as a teenager, and a defense of the drugs he’d done since them. “Ennui” is pretty, but way over the top, with a choir of voices singing the bass line and that lead guitar chiming all the way through. The title track is too funky for anyone’s good, though it does explain why Sally had trouble riding, dancing, or doing most things. Finally, “Billy” is a sympathetic portrait of a high school acquaintance whose life turned out different than Lou’s own, and might be more palatable and affecting if it weren’t for a sax honking its way throughout.

Sally Can’t Dance is only awful in hindsight, when compared to Lou’s best work. Its notoriety precedes itself, and while we can’t recommend it, he would do a lot worse down the road. These days it’s hard to believe he really stood behind the sound of the album, competent as it is. It could almost be anybody’s album, except for Lou’s drowsy vocals.

Lou Reed Sally Can’t Dance (1974)—2½

Joe Jackson 9: Blaze Of Glory

Joe’s fascination with the LP as an entity continued on his next real album, a look back at his generation’s progress. Although he insisted it wasn’t a concept album (“it’s not the f—king Wall, for f—k’s sake,” he would tell impatient audiences), Blaze Of Glory is a song cycle, programmed in such a way that each track, while different than the next, has a built-in segue that sets up the sound of its successor. The use of lead vocalists other than himself also makes it more of a Big Production than the average rock album.

As had become his approach, the album ranges from rock to lush pop, sometimes within the same track. “Tomorrow’s World” fades in with an expression of wonder at what technology can bring, with pointed references to what didn’t come to fruition. “Me And You (Against The World)” gives a glimpse at the first brush with romance, followed by the determination of success in the big city espoused in “Down To London”, which features one of the better fake harmonicas as played on a synthesizer. The dreams, however, are already tarnished with the regret in “Sentimental Thing” (not sung by Joe, and its melody already used on the Tucker soundtrack). We’re not sure where the instrumental “Acropolis Now” fits into the story, except that one of its themes sounds borrowed from the title track of another concept album. “Blaze Of Glory” has a great backing track, but the words are basically a rewrite of Bad Company’s “Shooting Star”, right down to the metaphor and protagonist’s name. A not-so-subtle nod to “On Broadway” closes out the side.

While he may not have intended to allude to so many songs known in the common vernacular, there’s no escaping the similarity of “Rant And Rave” to “Footloose”, despite its 6/4 meter and detours into sleazy jazz. The relentless drums segue nicely into the intro of “Nineteen Forever”, one of his greatest and most unjustifiably ignored singles. It’s a wonderful ‘60s pop pastiche, with just the right amount of horns, exuberant vocals and even a Coral electric sitar. The determination to stay eternally young is exemplified in the extended fake live ending, complete with shouts of “one more time”. Instead, a lone trumpet leads into “The Best I Can Do”, another trademark vague love song with a vocal that still reminds us of Steve Martin. “Evil Empire” is a not-so-subtle slap at American policy at a time when Reagan was still seemingly universally beloved, and for those not impressed with the album thus far, “Discipline” is sure to seal its fate. Based on an intentionally annoying drum and bass loop, it weaves in horns, spoken excerpts and vintage keyboards into a maddening display of automation, broken only by a smooth jazz interlude. Those listening on CD would be rewarded by skipping ahead to the closing “Human Touch”, another aching piano ballad with a heartbreaking violin and a vocal arrangement reminiscent of the Righteous Brothers.

Blaze Of Glory is not immediately accessible, taking a few listens to catch hold. Some of it could easily be shaved in favor of the songs as opposed to holding up the story. Unfortunately for him, it was not a huge success outside his fan base, and the label that had supported him for so long dropped him in the next music industry consolidation. (In a cut in the running for the unkindest, Jon Bon Jovi put out an album the following year with the same title and sold more than a few more copies.)

Joe Jackson Blaze Of Glory (1989)—3

Television 1: Marquee Moon

Not every band that came out of the CBGB’s scene during the advent of punk was as easy to describe as just that. For example, the band Television, despite having a distinct edgy sound covered in New York City grime, weren’t about loud and fast. Their songs were intricate, and particularly in the construction of the guitar parts, as played by main songwriter Tom Verlaine and musical foil Richard Lloyd on a variety of Fenders. Their sound was closer to Talking Heads than the Ramones, but never enjoyed the commercial success of those bands. Still, they managed to leave us with a classic debut, the wondrous Marquee Moon. These eight songs fill up 45 minutes so well—just right for one side, or both, of a 90-minute Maxell—and haven’t dated in the least.

“See No Evil” is a perfect starter, balancing a chugging rhythm in one channel and a spiraling riff in the other. Verlaine’s strangled voice is an acquired taste, but he gets so much joy out of the words he sings. The shouted backing vocals help too, as they do on “Venus”, with the striking image “I fell into the arms of Venus de Milo”. “Friction” is a great garage band song, using basic chords, a wonderful dissonant main riff and an equally chaotic solo. The masterpiece of the album is the title track, which features three existential verses bookended by the simplest of riffs. After the third chorus, the riff starts again to support a majestic solo, as the band follows, matching the dynamics note by note. An incredibly primitive attack explodes into a reverie with almost birdlike sounds, then it all starts again with a repeat of the first verse. (On the original LP the song faded at the ten-minute mark, so it was a discovery akin to a holy grail when the first and all subsequent CDs extended the song for another minute to a full ending.)

Another simple rhythm part starts “Elevation”, a minor-key marvel with a fascinatingly interrupted meter. The band allows themselves one pretty song with “Guiding Light”, which somehow manages to sound like some of the slower songs by the Rolling Stones. A reggae strum underpins “Prove It”, and after a while you notice the wonderful bassline Fred Smith concocted. (It bears mentioning that drummer Billy Ficca holds down the fort expertly.) The weakest song is the last, the lengthy and tortured “Torn Curtain”, but just because it’s not up to the level of the rest doesn’t necessarily mean it’s bad.

Marquee Moon is not an easy album to sum up, nor is it easy to convince others of its splendor. People raised on Clapton, Stevie Ray and other guitar heroes may not appreciate it right away, but you can hear its influence in U2, the White Stripes and Radiohead. Too edgy for radio, too polite for punk, it’s not yet new wave, but it is rock ‘n roll. (One of Rhino’s better reissues was the expanded version of this album, which added three alternate takes, an unfinished instrumental, and the complete seven-minute version of “Little Johnny Jewel”, their first indie single.)

Television Marquee Moon (1977)—5
2003 expanded CD: same as 1977, plus 5 extra tracks

Ben Folds 2: Whatever And Ever Amen

Major-label support meant that the second album from the Ben Folds Five got a little more attention, but the music scene wasn’t about to embrace a piano-driven trio no matter how fuzzy the bass was. Still, the boys stepped up to the plate with Whatever And Ever Amen. The album boasted even more intellectually biting lyrics alongside some quieter moments, and even managed a hit with “Brick”, a song that gives chills on the first listen, and will still do so even after one realizes that the song’s about accompanying your girlfriend to an abortion clinic.

“One Angry Dwarf And 200 Solemn Faces” is a wonderful riposte of a one-time bullied geek enjoying his “fame”. Unfortunately, “Fair” takes a little too much time with the same chords and lyrics to highlight the boys’ harmonies. The somber “Brick” is defused by “Song For The Dumped” with its adamant “give me my money back” chorus. “Selfless, Cold And Composed” has a jazzy Bacharach feel and nice string accents, but again, takes too long. But all is well when the ode to “Kate” gallops into the speakers.

The second half of the album straddles heaviness and silliness. “Smoke” wanders around a 3/4 meter under a melodica, while the unrelated “Cigarette” is almost a Tom Waits pastiche, with its lonesome barroom piano and ironic plotline. “Steven’s Last Night In Town” is a hilarious portrait of a guest who stays too long, embellished by members of the Klezmatics. The attitude continues on with “Battle Of Who Could Care Less”, sealing his status as spokesman for jaded twentysomethings. The final two songs—“Missing The War” and “Evaporated”—get very quiet and a little sad, despite occasional dynamic punctuations from the band.

Alternately hilarious and poignant, Whatever And Ever Amen was a strong follow-up that took a while to catch on to the masses. When it did, it would become the band’s biggest hit. A later expanded version restored some of the audio-verité elements that had disappeared from all but the first pressings, along with a hilarious hidden track. And of course, there were a few bonuses in the form of B-sides like the instrumental “Theme From ‘Dr. Pyser’”, a faithful cover of “Video Killed The Radio Star” and the wonderful “Air”, written for the inexplicable big-budget Godzilla movie.

Ben Folds Five Whatever And Ever Amen (1997)—3½
2005 expanded, remastered CD: same as 1997, plus 7 extra tracks